Fly Me To The Moon
by LucyMoon1992
Summary: Italy gets drunk on shots at a party and staggers home, crashing into Germany on the way. Italians and alcohol really aren't a good mix...GerIta R&R Enjoy!


_Hey! So I've been thinking of this one-shot for a while now. Usually I write for usxuk but I do like GerIta too so here I am! Hope you like; enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia _

_Fly me to the Moon_

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"87 bottles of beer on the wall! 87 bottles of beer!" Italy sung badly, staggering from side to side down the pavement of the Rome's city centre. The busy crowds from Friday night shopping paid scant attention to the redhead as he weaved from side to side, bleating his song off-key. He was just another Italian who'd gotten a little tipsy. Yeah right! He was _roaring _drunk! "If one of those bottles should happen to fall-"

"_Italy?_" An astonished voice said, accompanying a rock-hard chest. The nation bounced off before he could stop himself, but was caught easily before he hit the ground.

Germany stared in amazement at an obviously drunk redhead. His eyes were bright, his cheeks flushed and the blonde had no doubt he was probably seeing life through a haze. He pulled him upright and rested his hands on his shoulders as he weaved.

::Hick:: "Germany?" Italy said, focusing his eyes on his best friend. Okay, that was his chest-

His eyes flew upwards over his black shirt to his throat, then his concerned face. "There'd be 86 bottles of beer on the wall!" he finished happily, diving nose-first into his chest.

Germany sighed as Italy fell into his chest hard, arms limp at his sides. He was off his face! What the hell had happened here? "Italy? You awake?" he asked in sudden amusement, aware of the strange picture they showed to the passing shoppers. Here he was in his best tuxedo, with a petite redhead with his head buried in his chest and snoring-_snoring?_

"Italy!" Germany hissed, reaching up to shake him lightly. A snort answered him. Yep, he was asleep alright! He rolled his eyes. Great. The idiot was passed out on his chest, in the middle of Friday night shopping! "Italy?" he said teasingly, getting an idea. He tapped him on the head. "I have pasta!" he tempted him in a sing-song voice. The reaction was immediate.

The personification shot upright when someone said the magic word 'pasta'. "Where? Where?" he demanded, reeling back. He focused on Germany's grin and suddenly remembered where he was. Oh, he must have gone to sleep! He blushed.

On Germany's chest!

He frowned when he remembered why he'd jerked awake. "Where's the pasta?" Italy demanded, stalking closer and slapping him on the chest. Mmm, his chest was nice and hard. He patted at it again, then stroked it.

Hmm, nice.

Germany really worked out!

Germany's eyes widened when he realised his ally had stopped thumping him for pasta and was now stroking over his shirt in a most distracting manner. "Italy!" he yelled, startling him. Italy reeled back again, eyes wide. Germany reached out and caught him before he fell on his butt.

"Why are you yelling?" he mumbled frowning at his friend. He'd almost fallen over! Hey...he blinked up at him, once again in his arms. How'd he end up here? "Something's wrong with this picture," he said aloud, frowning and biting his lip.

"What's wrong with this picture?" Germany asked, staring down into his eyes as he stared up at him. He was biting his lip in an endearing way, looking perplexed.

"You-" Italy poked at his chest. "And me-" he poked a finger in his own chest, then swayed forward so that he was leaning against his length, head at an obviously uncomfortable angle as he fought to keep his eyes on Germany's. "We're the wrong way round."

"Is that so?" Germany muttered, fighting the urge to laugh at his idiot of a friend.

"Ve! I'm the one who's always hugging you and now we've swapped!" He replied, swaying to and fro.

The German felt a grin cross his face and laughed aloud at his antics. Italy was pretty cute when he was smashed! His grin faded and he stared at where Italy was. He was practically glued to his entire front from knees to chest! In public!

Germany looked about quickly and stepped back.

Italy took a nose-dive when his support vanished and Germany's arms came about him for a third time to stop his ungraceful swan-dive to the cement of the pavement.

Germany rolled his eyes as the redhead ended up in his arms again. He was a mess! Italy snickered into his chest and his eyes jerked down, wondering what was so funny now. "Italy? Can you stand?" he asked, amazed that he was still with him. Okay, so he was an annoying redhead-but he was also a very drunk annoying redhead. He couldn't leave him like this. "HOW did you get drunk?" Germany demanded, arms tightening about his waist in a protective manner.

He'd murder whoever had gotten him this way!

Was it a date? "Was it a guy?" he demanded harshly, putting a hand under his chin and forcing his head up to look into his glazed eyes.

"A date?" he said, confused. Then he realised what he was asking. "No. A party. With the others," Italy flapped a hand about, trying to remember what he was saying. "You know? The _others?_" he emphasised. Now, what were their names again?

"Which others?" Germany asked, frowning darkly. If he meant Japan, Romano and Spain, he'd have a few things to say to them. How could they leave Italy in this mess?

The small man glared at Germany when he wouldn't co-operate. "The _others._" he said again in exasperation. Italy pushed back from him to gesture wildly. "The others…the tomato one…and the one who's always so polite…"

"What?" Okay, so he was talking about Spain and Japan?

"And that one with the big eyebrows…he's dating the fat one?" Italy rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and swaying dangerously on his own two feet.

Eyebrows? Fat? Could he be talking about the England and America? Italy wasn't extremely friendly with those two…Germany frowned at him disapprovingly. Why would Italy lie about being at a party with those idiots? "England and America?" Germany said helpfully, not believing a word.

"Yeah! Those two as well as Japan and Spain!" Italy squealed in delight, happy that Germany had gotten what he was trying to say. He was trying to recall something that was just at the back of his mind, but it wouldn't form. Something he should be remembering...

"Oooo! They made me take shots! Lots and lots of shots!" he cried, suddenly remembering the line of eight shots of vodka placed in front of him. "I feel so weird." he almost whined the last word, trying to figure out what was going on. He'd been drinking and having fun...then he had the urge to go shop and left the party...then he'd been singing and then crashed into Germany.

"You've ruined my shopping!" The nation accused, pointing a finger in his face. His finger shook and he struggled to keep it steady, and then rested it on the side of his nose, relieved to have it still.

Germany gaped at him. Italy had his finger almost up his nose! He quickly knocked his hand away. The redhead's arm flew out and he spun completely around, coming back to face Germany and swaying dangerously.

"Oooooh, everything's spinning" Italy moaned, staggering left, then right, then head-first.

::Thunk::

Germany sighed in resignation as Italy crashed into his chest. Again. "I'm going to take you home, Italy." he told him gently, stroking his head. He was as helpless as a kitten like this! Germany sighed again and looped an arm about Italy's waist, turning them both.

"Ooooh, diiiizy." He groaned as the ground swung crazily. Germany blinked and realised Italy was being half-carried down the sidewalk. Mmm, this was much easier than walking! Look how fast they were going. Italy looked down to his waist where he could feel a hard band and saw Germany's arm looped around it. Wait, this wasn't right. He looked down further and saw that his feet were dragging along the sidewalk.

That wasn't right either!

"Eh?" he uttered, befuddled. "Let's see. Umm-my feet should be...doing things. By themselves."

"Uh huh," Germany said absently, only half-hearing the Italian. How had he gotten himself into this mess? Here he'd been at a party with his boss in town with his work tuxedo, carrying a drunken Italian...no, make that _dragging_ a drunken Italian, along a busy shopping district. And yep, he was getting some weird looks! He didn't blame them!

"Come on feet!" Italy snickered.

"Please, someone kill me now." Germany said, staring down at the nation. He sighed. Italy's head was almost at his knees. The only thing holding him up was_ HIM_. Germany spotted an alley and headed towards it, looking about hastily for watching people. Nope, no one was watching. He jumped into the alley swiftly with his country strength and propped the drunken man up against the wall. Italy's head thunked against the bricks hard because his head was held so limply and Germany winced.

"Owww?" Italy said, not sure if it hurt or not. Then the stinging started and he winced. "Owww!" he shouted, hands flying up to hold his injury. He smacked his ear and yelled again. "Damn it!" he screeched, annoyed. What was with his limbs? They weren't doing what he told them to!

"You're your own worst enemy right now, Italy." The blonde-haired man noted, sighing. He walked closer and bent Italy's head forward to check out his injury. His fingers dove into his silky hair, checking for blood. No blood, but a bump was forming. Damn. He'd have an extra pain tomorrow along with his hangover.

"I think someone spiked your drink," Germany said, putting a hand under his chin to tilt his head up. The moonlight above lit on Italy's face, screwed up in pain. "It hurts hm?" he said gently, studying his eyes. No concussion. Good.

Suddenly, Italy's eyes shone like he'd only noticed that he was with Germany and he grinned, lopsidedly.

"Hey, hey Germany! I have a secret that I've wanted to tell you for a while now! So listen up, si?" Italy squealed, throwing his arms out to the sides happily.

Germany groaned but simply nodded his head, 'Ja. Go on ahead.'

Italy, still grinning like a manic, declared loudly, 'I'm in love with you!'

Germany froze.

Sorry, _what?_

Italy liked him. _Germany._ Okay, so he knew Italy was the affectionate type, but the tone in his voice was much more than adoring when he talked to him. "Oh?" Germany managed in a strangled tone. "Do tell."

"I love you!" he announced gleefully again, then clapped his hands over his mouth. "Ooops?" he muttered from behind them, staring at Germany with wide eyes.

"You love _me_?" Germany gasped out, pole-axed. He wondered if maybe Italy was just really, very, _very _drunk but Germany could clearly see the truth in his eyes. Italy loved him! Him!

Italy tilted his head back, staring up at the moon. His hands fell from his face and he smiled dreamily. "Si. When you rescue me I feel all safe and warm..."

The blonde merely stood there, flabbergasted. "How long have you loved…me?" he asked carefully, wondering why he was asking. He was seeing Italy in a new light now. His best friend was in love with him- Germany. He simply couldn't get his head around it!

Oh, for ages!" Italy admitted, giggling again. He suddenly spotted something at the side of the building and his eyes lit up. Stairs!

"Oooh!" he squealed, making a mad dash for them. He heard Germany swear behind him and put on the speed he usually reserved for mad-dashes from the enemy. "Ship ahoy!" he yelled, reaching the stairs and running up them. He weaved about a little, but he managed to keep her feet.

"Italy! Stop!" Germany shouted, running swiftly after the drunkard. He was so fast! He stared in shock as he actually blurred for a moment, then appeared a story up. He gaped. "What the hell?"

"Whoo, that was fast" The nation staggered as he saw he was already at the top of the stairs and staring over the roof top. Italy grinned widely and jumped about on the rooftop gleefully, enjoying the freedom of being so high up and close to the Moon. "I feel so free!"

"Italy! I'm going to strangle you!" Germany bellowed back, leaping onto the roof. The Italian was nuts! They just run up five flights of stairs! How the hell did he manage that dead drunk? And why wasn't he tired? He knew he wasn't because he worked out so much-

What was his excuse?

"I'm flying!" Italy yelled, spinning around and around on the rooftop and getting dizzier and dizzier. "Woooo, er, diiiizy" he moaned, staggering about now as his eyes tried to focus.

"Italy! Watch out!" The handsome man shouted in panic as Italy staggered to the edge of the roof.

Sprinting at him, Germany lunged forward and caught Italy's wrist, in the nick of time as he was centimetres from falling off the edge.

Whirling him around to face him, Germany glared.

"You idiot! You could have fallen to your death!"

Italy simply shrugged which infuriated the German anymore.

"You can't just say you love me and then go and jump off a building! Use your head for once Italy!" Germany yelled, shaking the young nation in his arms.

"I was running up here because the moon is so big and lovely tonight, not to jump off the building, silly.' Italy murmured, placing his head onto Germany's chest suddenly feeling very tired.

"What's so amazing about the moon? You see it all the time and could have as easily seen it on the street, twenty feet below us." God! This idiot made no sense whatsoever!

"The moon reminds me of you so I wanted to be as close to it was possible." Italy whispered against Germany's tux and the German faltered.

"Oh. Uh, oh. Ok then. I guess," He mumbled, frowning, '"But I am right here, you know."

"Si, but you haven't told me you love me back so…" Italy yawned and trailed off, snuggling closer to his friend.

Germany started violently, completely forgetting that little detail.

So…did he love Italy?

He honestly didn't know because he honestly didn't know what love was._ I like Italy a great deal…do I love him though? Well something had changed between us over the years…_

Flushing brightly, thinking about what he planned to do, he pushed Italy away from him so he could look him in the eyes. Italy yawned again, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

"Germany?" Italy pondered, noticing Germany's red face and obvious awkward demeanour.

"Do you really love me, Italy?" Germany asked seriously. Italy frowned only for a second before nodding vigorously. Germany nodded also and bought his face down towards Italy's.

Italy licked his lips nervously as Germany tugged him close till his mouth was almost touching his. "Then ah-" Germany said awkwardly. "Then...I guess I feel the same." he finished, hand coming up to touch Italy's cheek hesitantly.

This is happening extremely fast but for once Germany was just going to ride with it.

"And if you love me, then I'm all yours," Germany whispered against his lips, eyes locking with Italy's. "And you're mine." he finished, knowing to sounded possessive but not caring.

He closed the distance between their lips and caught his in a passionate kiss.

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_FLUFFY! Sorry, I'm a complete sucker for it. Hope you enjoyed __**PLEASE REVIEW**__ cos I've never written for GerIta before! Thanks, LucyMoon1992 x_


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